


The Ways They Love

by iridescentAI



Series: The Space Between [4]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 5 things and 1, Character Study, F/M, Female My Unit | Byleth, Flirting, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jealousy, Kisses, Love Languages, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, little bit of Byleth angst, lots of love and support and gentle touches, sneaky displays of affection, that's why it's rated m
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:54:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21597004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentAI/pseuds/iridescentAI
Summary: It comes as no surprise that Sylvain and Felix differ drastically in the ways they love.However, it is alittlesurprising that they have one thing in common.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth, Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Series: The Space Between [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500899
Comments: 19
Kudos: 204





	The Ways They Love

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this one in the works for a while but I figured I'd establish that they're fucking before i referenced them fucking (which is like, once in number 5).

It comes as no surprise that Sylvain and Felix differ drastically in the ways they love.

  1. PDA



Slinging an arm around her, squeezing her shoulders (and once, her hips, but no one saw), bumping into her as he passes, taking any and every opportunity to take her hands in his… 

Byleth thinks it’s obvious, but everyone else just seems confused by Sylvain’s behavior. 

Ingrid asks the professor again and again if Sylvain is bothering her (and Byleth has no choice but to play dumb, to cock her head in confusion, stare blankly at Ingrid and ask _whatever could she mean by that_ ). Ferdinand has begun challenging Sylvain to duels for their professor’s honor (his noble way of demanding Sylvain cease the funny business immediately, she supposes). Seteth tells her she shouldn’t encourage Sylvain’s degenerate behavior (which she also chooses to play dumb to and immediately regrets, since Seteth launches into a birds and bees lecture).

Despite the fact that they've agreed to keep their relationship on the down-low for now, Byleth isn't bothered by Sylvain's wandering hands. She can tell that it's a substitute for what he truly wishes to do, what he can get away with for the moment.

When he plasters his chest to her back, leaning over her while she works, brushing some of her hair behind her ear, she thinks it must be obvious how terribly smitten the cavalier is for her. When he touches her shoulder, her waist, her arm, her cheek, the brush of his fingers so gentle and warm before they part, she thinks it must be obvious how desperately he longs to hold her, how he longs to stake his claim for everyone to see. 

She knows, most of all, that he wishes to make it obvious who has claimed _him_.

It’s clear in his smile -- pulled too tight to be genuine -- when past flames call his name and interested parties flash coy smiles in his direction. Byleth knows that something vindictive and cruel within him wishes to brandish her as a weapon, to laugh in their faces as they realize how absolutely unattainable he is.

But Sylvain is a good actor, good at telling people what they want to hear. Even after they all officially start “dating,” the cavalier is still full of sly winks and coy smiles, handing out charming words and empty promises to any pretty face that crosses his path.

It should make Byleth jealous. 

But she can hardly be upset when he pulls her into his lap after a long day, when he lets out a sigh into the crook of her neck, pleased hums rumbling out of him as he holds her to his chest. 

She knows he’s tired of this life, tired of Crests and duties and lineage and nobility. She knows he’s tired of opening letters from Margrave Gautier with three or four marriage proposals attached. She knows it’s all an act, slacking off to avoid responsibility, chasing women to make a name for himself, breaking hearts left and right until the word gets out that he’s just a dirty cheater and the marriage proposals stop coming for good.

She knows, better than anyone, where Sylvain Jose Gautier’s loyalties lie. 

Felix, on the other hand, wants nothing to do with Sylvain’s grabby hands. 

(That’s nothing new, honestly, but it’s entertaining to watch while she’s the only one that knows the true nature of their relationship.)

There’s never any bite to Felix’s bark, and Sylvain takes full advantage of that.

The swordsman snarls and ducks and dodges, but occasionally Sylvain will hit his mark -- a palm cupping a cheek, a thumb running over cobalt and violet veins of a pale wrist -- and all the tension in Felix’s shoulders will dissipate at once. 

Because while Sylvain can barely restrain himself in public, Felix is wholly and totally reserved.

Truly, if Byleth didn’t know any better, she’d say that nothing with her relationship with Felix has changed. 

He’s still as aggressive as ever in his training -- in _their_ training -- relentless when they spar, relentless as he conjures his thirteenth Thunder spell in a row, relentless as he meticulously cleans every weapon he’s touched before turning in for the night. 

He’s still as defensive and harsh as ever -- though Byleth likes to think it’s become more casual, now. It’s less of a desperate attempt to push her away and more of a “this is my natural personality, deal with it.”

The closest he gets to her in the public eye is when there’s a sword in his hands -- or when he caves and tutors her more on grappling. If she didn’t know better, she’d say that Felix was _averse_ to her touch.

But Byleth knows, better than anyone, that physical affection is not the only way a person can show love.

She knows he keeps an eye on her on the battlefield, she knows because there have been many times -- regardless of the size of the battalion organized around her -- that he’s stepped in to parry a blow meant to wound her (or worse). She knows his insistence upon taking care of her weapons for her isn’t because he thinks she’s incompetent. She knows he’s much more likely to do something he thinks will help her out than act like a lovesick fool in front of the entire monastery.

Besides, she can hardly be upset -- not when his hands tend to reach for hers in the solace of an unoccupied room, not when he pauses before leaving to brush a gentle kiss against her lips.

2\. Jealousy

Once they hash out the boundaries of their unusual relationship and settle into place, Sylvain and Felix’s respective levels of _possessiveness_ come as a complete surprise. 

As soon as Sylvain understands that Byleth is asking for commitment between the three of them -- not an open relationship, not friends with benefits, just them and _only_ them -- it also seems to occur to him that Felix and Byleth are _his_. 

He sees what Byleth is offering him -- something _real_ , something _honest,_ something _permanent_ \-- and as soon as he realizes he’s _allowed to_ , he sinks his claws in deep. 

He’s never _cared_ before -- and therefore had never been too upset about breaking a commitment. 

(Byleth wonders if it’s because he knows he’s prone to loving fiercely, to loving with his whole heart, and has kept that part of him a secret after being tossed aside one too many times.)

Since all three of them have at least basic training in white magic, hickies and bruises don’t pose much of a threat -- but Byleth can tell Sylvain would rather leave them there. He’d like to mark them, he’d like to _be_ marked, to let everyone know what’s his, to let everyone know who he belongs to. 

(The first time they’d fucked, Felix had offered to heal Sylvain’s shoulder, a sheepish blush rising to his cheeks at the rings of teeth marks he’d left there. After a thoughtful pause, Sylvain had politely declined.)

Felix surprises her with a general flippancy towards Sylvain’s many trysts and affairs. 

“After dealing with it for nearly twenty years, it stops bothering you.” he tells her one day at lunch, while they watch a brunette hang off of Sylvain’s arm. Then, after a moment more, he adds, “I figure as long as he always comes back to me, all these women are trivial matters in the end.” 

And it’s true. It’s always _been_ true. No matter the breakup, it’s _Felix_ that’s stayed constant in Sylvain’s life. It’s _Felix_ that Sylvain runs back to.

However, she does notice that Felix isn’t _immune_ to jealousy, just removed from it. 

Sparring sessions with Sylvain after the cavalier spends a meal with a “date” always end with Sylvain flat on the ground, freshly bruised from Felix’s relentless (read: pissed off) attacks. 

Jealousy, like many emotions, is not something Felix tends to openly express. 

Or, at least, Byleth _thought_ , since the swordsman usually takes out his frustrations about Sylvain’s easygoing, flirtatious nature out later on instead of in the moment.

Yet, he bristles when Claude flirts with her, still gets pissy when Edelgard dawdles by her side. Once in a while, Felix will catch a glimpse of something all too human in the boar king’s eyes while Byleth is around, and Sylvain has to restrain the swordsman from picking a fight. 

She thinks it’s because -- unlike Sylvain and his pursuers -- she truly does love her students (soldiers? suitors?) in return. To Felix, they’re a viable threat, someone that could _take_ her from him.

She tells the two of them over and over again, assures them as many times as they need to hear it: _it’s only you two._

_It’s only you, because you want me and I want you and you want each other. This would never work with anyone else, not like it works with you two._

_It’s you, it’s only you._

3\. Communication

Of the three of them, Byleth is the most honest about her feelings. 

She’s certainly not the most talkative, but she says what she means and she means what she says. She hides no ulterior motive behind sweet words or stinging insults. She may be hesitant to part with a thought, but only because the words she speaks are always true -- and she’s not always ready to divulge them.

Of the three of them, Felix is the most blunt about his feelings.

He’s certainly not the most honest of them -- he tends to dodge with insults and sarcasm -- but when he finally breaks down and opens up, he always phrases his feelings in a way that can’t be misconstrued. He cuts straight to the heart of things, not bothering to beat around the bush with knowing glances or pretty prose. He may hide his true feelings with a veneer of snarling contempt, but only because he’s still getting comfortable with being vulnerable.

Of the three of them, Sylvain is the most _open_ about his feelings.

He’s certainly not the most straightforward, but it’s never any secret what Sylvain is feeling. He’s a constant stream of validation and insecurity and confidence and worries, announcing his fears his desires his dreams his woes his _everything_ without a second thought. He might take a moment to get to the point, drowning less than pleasant topics in pretty words to ease the sting, but only because he’s used to treading thin ice in his relationships.

4\. Comfort

Sylvain is an affirmation man -- physically _and_ verbally. If consoling is in order, he’s hushing, hugging, murmuring encouragement and validation. He’s a shower of gentle kisses, a broad palm stroking down your back, fingers carding through your hair.

Most of the time, this suffices for Byleth. She’s content to be held in strong arms, happy to be reassured by the soothing cadence of Sylvain’s voice. 

Felix is not so much a words person. He’s usually pretty weak to touch, but it’s hard to approach him when he gets wound up -- and even harder to rope that frenetic energy into a static hug. 

No, Felix is a man of action -- constantly moving forwards, never looking back. If something is wrong, he needs to _do_ something about the situation, no matter how small that action may be. Sometimes it’s bringing a meal to Byleth’s quarters while she’s working late into the night, sometimes it’s repairing and cleaning all of Sylvain’s weapons when the cavalier gets in over his head with issues back home.

Occasionally, Byleth gets frustrated to the point that pleasant words and gentle touches aren’t enough to soothe her troubled soul. In those moments, she’s grateful for the calloused hands that drag her to the training grounds, throw her a wooden sword, and proceed to push her to her limits. Felix will press her until the fight leaves her body -- and when she finally stumbles, drained, he drags her back to Sylvain. 

Byleth quickly discovers that, after running herself dry on the training grounds both physically and emotionally, there is nothing better than curling up between Felix and Sylvain. The two of them surround her, twining their bodies together as comfortably and as perfectly as if the three of them were made with each other in mind.

She wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Except that’s a lie, because she wants it _every_ way, wants everything they can offer, wants to give everything she has in return. 

Contented warmth flares bright and comfortable in her chest no matter which way they end up piled. Being between them is wonderful, trapping Felix between them is wonderful, and cradling Sylvain between them is wonderful. 

Judging by the goofy smile on Sylvain’s lips whenever he gets roped into the middle and the way that Felix doesn’t take long to be subdued when it’s his turn, she knows her feelings are echoed back to her with equal intensity.

5\. Pride

Sylvain is quick to admit defeat. If it will get him or those he cares about out of trouble, he’ll blame it on himself ten times over. 

He accepts any and all interpretations of his character, any rumor flying about that even resembles his name, any harsh words or disdainful glances or outright rejections. Some of them actually do get to him, but a surprising amount of horrible things roll off the cavalier’s back like water off a swan’s wings. 

It’s a frustrating habit of his, something Byleth thinks probably stems from his desire to present himself as a good-for-nothing idiot so no one will take him seriously -- potentially from something deeper, darker, from something inside of him that has convinced him they’re all right, that he deserves the abuse. 

But that habit certainly has its perks. 

He’ll say _anything_ to get her attention, he’ll do _anything_ to keep it. (The same goes for Felix’s attention -- perhaps even more so, since her attention isn’t as hard to attain.)

Sylvain is by no means a submissive man, but if Byleth demands something of him -- _get on your back, spread your legs, yes, just like that_ \-- he’s quick to comply. Some nights, when Felix is feeling particularly mean and a low _beg for it_ rumbles out of him, Sylvain wastes _no_ time in throwing his pride out of the window, keening and groveling as if he was born for the role. 

He’s so soft and pretty when he’s trapped underneath them, and Byleth tells him as much. Sylvain merely smiles, wide and sweet, eager to please.

Felix’s pride is something he holds close to his chest. He hisses and spits at anyone that dares prod in its general direction. 

He won’t chase down people that mutter behind his back, but if the issue is brought to his face, he’ll strike anyone down. 

He’s proud of his skill, he stands firm in his beliefs, and he will not accept anything besides what he deserves. 

Sometimes his pride opens doors for him. He’s always thinking about improving, getting stronger, so he looks for technique in every interaction, even mundane things like Bernadetta’s rather disarming flailing limbs. (Byleth remembers how hard it was to swallow down her amusement when Felix came to her with a demand for time to practice this “technique”. She almost _lost it_ when he first presented the erratic movement.)

Sometimes his pride blinds him. It shoves friends and family away, isolates him in a whirling hurricane of his own grief and rage. He would rather wade out the storm than rely on anyone to help him through it -- a habit that Byleth is desperate to kick before it ruins him. His pride seals his heart and opens his mouth, tossing razor-tipped words at anyone that dares come too close in order to avoid being honest about the _human_ feelings he has. 

( _Go find a husband_ , echoes in Byleth's ears -- a conversation she had the misfortune of overhearing between Felix and Ingrid. His childhood friend had prodded too close to a sensitive spot, and Felix had immediately lashed out, hitting Ingrid exactly where he knew it hurt most.)

It takes a _lot_ to convince Felix to cast aside his pride and freely express anything that’s not anger, mirth, or the desire to train. 

It takes a lot of coaxing from his childhood friend, the one who knows him best, and a lot of encouragement from his former professor, the one that sees right through him, to convince him to divulge any sort of vulnerability or insecurity.

It takes _hours_ of teasing, edging him to the brink and back, to get him to ask instead of take, to get him to voice the things he wants, the things he _needs_. She knows she has him where she wants him when his voice goes high and needy, when he doesn’t bother to censor the words coming out of his mouth anymore. 

He’s absolutely beautiful when he’s completely lost control, and Byleth tells him as much. Sylvain always joins in, adoring his prickly boyfriend until all of those spikes retract. Usually at that point, all Felix can do is flush a deep red and choke out a moan, completely unraveled.

Byleth’s pride is a weird thing. 

She’s worked hard to get where she is. She’s spent years training as a mercenary, fighting to survive, fighting just to see another day. She’s spent years teaching what she knows to her students, she’s spent years learning even more to further enrich her student’s education (to do what she can to keep them _alive_.) 

She’s worked hard to get where she is.

And yet, she doesn’t feel as if she’s the one that got herself here. 

She feels as though it was fate, or destiny, or Rhea’s meddling, that got her here. Here, where all three of the house leaders, all three region monarchs, cooperate and fight alongside each other, here, where all her students are in one place, alive and well.

There’s nothing _she_ did to make this happen. 

She _knows_ her presence and attention to each student is not what brought them all together here and now. 

She _knows_ it’s Rhea’s meddling that gave her her power, not her hard work and dedication.

She _knows_ it’s the Crest Stone residing in place of her heart that gives her a connection to the progenitor goddess, that gives her a direct line to the position of archbishop (should they choose to keep the church once the war is over).

Her pride is a weird thing. 

She’s earned the respect she’s worked for, but she’s not sure she truly deserves it. 

Some events are fixed in time, unchangeable. 

She knows she’s worked hard to get here, but it feels all for naught. Like nothing she does makes a difference in the final result. 

Which is why she’s hesitant to let go of her control in any situation. 

When her workload piles too high, she’s loathe to hand off responsibility. When she heads out to the battlefield, she’s the one pulling the strings. No one speaks for her. No one controls her. 

Sylvain and Felix pick up on this _quickly_. 

It becomes something of a competition between the two, to see who can weasel their way past her defenses first. 

Sometimes it’s Sylvain, with soothing words and a comforting touch, convincing her to let him help her strategize for the next battle. Sometimes it’s Felix, with stubborn insistence and logic she can’t argue with, convincing her to let Claude take the reins in the next diplomatic assembly. 

Sometimes it’s both of them, smothering her in sensation until she can’t think, lost in hands, lips, teeth, and tongue until she can’t breathe, too busy seeing stars to do anything but drown in their love

However, it does come as a surprise that Sylvain and Felix share one common trait in the ways that they love.

  1. Awkward, clumsy, endearing panic



Sylvain tends to put on a cheery persona for the public eye, but the more Byleth gets to know him, the more often that jolly smile melts into something softer, something worried, or tightens into something stressed or frustrated.

For all his bravado, Sylvain is surprisingly bashful when it comes to sincere emotion. 

He hides his face when he cries, snuffling into sleeves and handkerchiefs (and Byleth’s tights, that one time) to hide flushed cheeks and teary eyes and pathetic sniffles.

He buries his anger beneath jokes and winks, laughs off his father’s letters and Seteth’s lectures, and waves flirtatiously at the women that spit at his feet. The only sign of his frustration is the flash of canines when he throws her to the ground during a sparring match, but it’s quickly followed by a sheepish grin as he helps her up. 

He’s a terrible flirt -- full of sly compliments, quick to make suggestive comments -- but Byleth is honestly surprised by the stutter he trips over, the nervous wringing of his hands, the shy blush that rises to his cheeks when he tells her he likes what she’s done with her hair today, or thanks her for the gift she’d picked up at the market for him. 

The time she plants a kiss on his cheek when no one’s looking, his eyebrows nearly blend in with his skin at the force of his blush. 

When she twines her fingers in his, murmurs about how much she loves his hands, kisses the top of his head and tells him he’s sweet, his arms tighten around her in surprise and his smile goes goofy against her cheek. Byleth absolutely _loves_ when he stumbles over his words, stammers into a bashful _thank you_ or attempts a sincere compliment in return. 

It's endearing when he stammers and stumbles with her, but it's _so funny_ to watch Sylvain trip all over himself with Felix.

Sometimes Felix catches him staring, catches the wistful, wondering look in hazel eyes, and demands to know what he's looking at. Caught, Sylvain always seems to forget his usual charm, turning into a blushing mess for a moment while he collects himself.

(Once again… Byleth thinks it's _pretty obvious_ that Sylvain's got it bad for the two of them. Most people brush it off as his usual antics, but Ingrid is starting to question the unusual bashfulness attached to them.)

(The other childhood friend, the only other one that knows Sylvain well enough to sense a change, isn't really emotionally stable enough to attend to such matters. Sylvain assures her that even if Dimitri wasn't feral, he wouldn't notice anyways.)

Felix is terribly easy to rile up, but he always manages to keep a straight face, manages to mask his embarrassment as anger.

He's _so_ good at it, in fact, that Byleth had backed off on the flirting and teasing, even in private. She loves his flustered scowl, loves the blush that stains his cheeks when she hits her mark, but if he truly doesn't enjoy it in return, she wouldn't push the subject.

At lunch one day, after she'd apologized and promised she'd back off, Sylvain had nudged the shorter swordsman with an expectant look on his face.

Imagine her surprise when Felix had flushed red and stammered out a request for Byleth to continue flirting with him. Fists clenched atop the table, eyes fixed stubbornly on his plate -- he was so nervous, he jumped in his seat when Byleth nudged his calf with her toe. 

"You don't mind?" Byleth confirmed, eyebrows raised.

Felix won't meet her eyes, and Sylvain won't stop smiling. "I… I don't mind. I-I'm not averse to compliments."

She's overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him, but she can't quite follow through with that in the mess hall. 

After their meal, she corners Felix in an empty room, (lets Sylvain slip past the door), and makes sure she kisses every inch of those flushed cheeks before they have to leave for today's War Council. 

(During Council, Lysithea asks why Felix's cheeks are so red. Felix's stammers and vehement denials of anything out of the ordinary happening don't convince anyone.)

Maybe as they grow more comfortable with the idea of having her, more confident in their worth with her, they'll lose the stutter.

But for now, like every other facet of their personalities that she learns about them, she enjoys every moment of it.

**Author's Note:**

> I JUST WANT TO ESTABLISH THAT THEY ALL LOVE EACH OTHER. THEY'RE DUMB AND IN LOVE. 
> 
> Come check out the art I made (and will most likely continue to make) for this series on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/iridescentai)! Or [Tumblr](https://iridescentai.tumblr.com) if you want :)


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